


Don't tell me the odds

by nightimedreamer



Series: Flufftober prompts [3]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Awkward Conversations, Flufftober, Hopeful Ending, Idiots in Love, M/M, Normal AU, Post Break Up, This one's a bit emo, awkward silence, fortune pumpkins, implied getting back together, is this angst...?, just a lot of awkwardness in general, pumpkin patch, super awkward kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:06:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26911861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightimedreamer/pseuds/nightimedreamer
Summary: Simon Snow just wanted to have fun at the pumpkin patch. He didn't expect to meet a certain someone after a turbulent break up and a long year of silence.Baz was just minding his father's business.OR:I came to Grimm's farm and all I got was an awkward conversation with my ex and a weird fortune pumpkin.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: Flufftober prompts [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956919
Comments: 11
Kudos: 78





	Don't tell me the odds

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone!! I'm back with another fic for the Flufftober prompts - day 8 (a bit late): pumpkin patch!  
> Check the prompts from [this list.](https://subpar-selkie.tumblr.com/post/628080856195547136/flufftober-prompts)  
> I hope you enjoy 😄💖

**Simon**

One of the things I love about October is the abundance of pumpkins. They seem to be everywhere. 

Every year, Penny and I used to participate in our school's carving contests. (She was actually good; I was just having fun.) 

I kind of miss all that—this year, most of all. I thought that going to uni and moving in with Penny would give me a sense of control over my life, but… I don't know. Things have been messier than ever.

That's probably why she insisted on coming here today.

Penny knows I love pumpkin patches. She keeps looking at me expectantly, her mouth quirking like she's ready to crack a smile on cue. 

But I'm not really feeling it today. I want to; I want the surge of excitement about being out in a field of pumpkins; I want the light happiness that sight would bring me. Just… the easiness of those times. I want that back.

I sigh when the farmhouse comes into view. It's huge, and I don't recognise it—odd, because Penny and I have visited practically every pumpkin patch in England. 

Except this one, apparently. 

We get closer, and I'm able to read the farm's name on the billboard by the road. 

_Welcome to Grimm's farm: live a pumpkin-filled dream._

Suddenly, I sit up straight. My heart runs fast. No fucking way. What's the fucking chance— 

I shoot Penny an alarmed look. She just frowns, as if my world isn't crumbling right now. 

"I think we should go home," I say, before I can think about it. "Do this another day. Or go somewhere else." 

"What?" She seems disappointed. "Simon, we've been planning this for _weeks._ Also, it's a perfect day. We don't know when we're getting another sunny morning like this." 

I latch onto my seat belt, just in case she tries to drag me out of the car. "Penny," I say through gritted teeth, _"turn around._ Seriously. Please." 

She doesn't; instead, she lets the car roll to a stop right by the gate. "What's wrong, Si?" 

I bite my lip. Maybe, if I don't say it out loud, my fears won't prove to be true. (Words have that kind of power, y'know.) 

Instead of answering, I point at the billboard. 

She looks at it, frowning. "I mean, I know that's a weak slogan and all, but I don't think that's reason to—" 

"That's not what I meant!" I hiss. "Look— _Grimm."_

She keeps frowning "Is that supposed to ring a bell…?" 

"You know, like…" I mouth his name, not daring to speak of the devil. 

Penny's mouth shapes an 'O' as she understands. Though she immediately brushes it off. "Simon, I thought we were over this. Not every Grimm in this country is related to Baz." 

I flinch. "Don't say his name!" 

"Or what? He's going to show up?" 

"Well—" 

I'm cut off by someone knocking on my window, and when I turn to ask what they want— 

It's him. 

_Baz._

I almost jump out of my skin. 

"Excuse me, you are obstructing the passage." He looks into the car, eyes settling on me. "... Snow?" 

I do my best to look composed, nodding at him casually. "Pitch." 

Baz's eyebrows are knitted together like he's trying to solve a complicated puzzle. He knocks on my window again. "Roll down, won't you?" 

"N-no?" I stammer. Fuck, five seconds looking at this perfect prick, and I'm already losing my mind. "I mean. No." _Not if you're going to ask like that_ , I add mentally. 

He just scowls. "Whatever, Snow. Just move. _Please."_

With that, Baz turns around, not sparing me a second glance. I feel myself blushing furiously. _"Prat."_

"Seriously, Simon?" Penny asks, shaking her head. 

I huff, avoiding her judgemental look. "Can we just go home?" 

"No. I want to buy pumpkins, and I'm not wasting my time because you and Baz can't talk like normal people." 

She enters the property, and I groan. I mean, I don't want to let Baz ruin this, either. But just the fact that he's here is enough to keep me on my toes for the rest of the day. 

We get out of the car, and Penny immediately heads to the field, taking a look at the pumpkins. I stay behind her, eyeing the farmhouse warily. 

The place is beautiful, I gotta admit. The patch is vast and there are pumpkins of all sizes, bright orange and plump. A lot to choose from. 

I can do this. I just need to walk around a bit and choose a pumpkin, then wait until Penny chooses hers. (It takes a while, but I'll survive.) 

I don't need to see Baz. I don't need to talk to him. This doesn't need to be painful, and I won't get riled up. We're here to have fun, and that's what's going to happen. 

"Why did we never come here?" I ask Penny. 

"It's a new business, apparently," she says, crouching down to examine some pumpkins. "But I've only heard good things about it. Apparently, Mr. Grimm knows what he's doing." 

"Of course," I mutter under my breath. I'm looking at the farmhouse again—I really shouldn't, but my eyes keep landing there. 

I can only make out a slender figure standing at the porch, looking our way. 

It's been over a year since I saw him last. I can't say I missed him, but I can't say I _didn't,_ either. 

Facts are that I couldn't stop thinking about him, just like things used to be. Except this time he wasn't there everyday, taunting me and pushing my buttons. (Alright, maybe I missed him a little bit.) 

It feels wrong, to stare at him from afar while my heart beats harder inside my chest. It feels too much like _before,_ except now I know what this feeling is. 

Baz has always known how to get under my skin. We studied together during all of secondary, and everyone knew about our rivalry. We were always at each other's throats, up until year twelve. 

(I mean, we were _still_ at each other's throats after that, just… in a different way.) 

To this day, I can't tell what—or how, exactly—everything changed between us. One moment, we were fighting, and the next, I was crushing my mouth against his. 

_I_ kissed _Baz._

And he kissed me back. 

It was surprising at the moment, at least to me, but not so much in hindsight. 

Things changed after that. Everything was good for a while—anytime I wanted Baz to shut up, all I needed to do was kiss him. 

But it didn't take me long to realise that there was more to it than just kisses and years of repressed sexual tension. I liked him. I liked the slightly friendlier banter between us; liked knowing where he was (especially if he was with me); liked when he smiled at me, and held my hand, and...

(Actually, I think I was a bit in love with Baz.) 

I was just as obsessed with him as I am now, even after one year. And though the idea of being close to him makes me want to run down the pumpkin patch, I still can't help the urge to stare. 

I'm barely paying attention as Penny goes on and on about the qualities of each pumpkin, comparing at least three of them at once. She asks for my opinion sometimes, and I answer with "Mhm" or "Yeah" or "Sure". It's not like she's paying attention to whatever I say, either. 

(I respect her process. Really. I just don't think it's really efficient.) 

We end up picking three pumpkins; one for me, two for because she couldn't decide between them. _(Also,_ she says, _then we'll be able to make more pumpkin goodies._ I agree wholeheartedly.) 

We go into the farmhouse to pay, and it's almost over—but then, Penny glances through one of the windows and stops dead on her tracks. 

"Simon, look!" She pokes her head out of the window, grinning excitedly. 

They're doing a pumpkin carving workshop in the back garden. 

She pulls at my jacket sleeve. "We should participate." 

"Penny, _no,"_ I say, shaking my head. "That's for kids." 

"You used to like doing that." 

"Yeah, when I was a _kid."_

"That's bollocks. Look, Baz is doing it." 

My head snaps up, and she's right—Baz is sitting at the long wooden table on the patio, surrounded by pumpkins and children of various ages. 

He looks up suddenly, and my heart almost beats out of my chest when our eyes lock. 

I turn around immediately, heading straight to the counter to pay. 

"Come on, Simon," Penny practically whines, trailing behind me. "Please, let's just have fun—" 

The door to the back garden opens, and Baz strides into the room, taking his place behind the counter. "I gather you're ready to pay?" 

That's what he says, though what I hear is _"ready to leave?"_

"Yes," I answer immediately. Penny sighs, but doesn't say anything, just gives Baz both her pumpkins so he can pack then. 

I pay, and we're turning to leave when he speaks again. "There's a carving workshop going on," he says, "and there's going to be a contest later today. The winner pumpkin gets a special prize." He lifts an eyebrow at me, as if challenging me to participate. Just like he used to do. 

"Yeah, cool, but we need to go now," I say. 

I'm almost out of the room when he speaks again. 

"I know you were always somewhat mediocre at carving pumpkins, Snow, but at least you could let Bunce try her luck." 

I turn around, feeling like he's just slapped me. 

"You know what," I stumble over my words, trying to keep my cool. I look at Penny, who seems to be torn between excitement (because Baz's just challenged me, and I never back down) and concern _(because I never back down)._

But I promised to myself that I wouldn't let him ruin our day—her day. 

"Come on, Penny, let's carve some pumpkins." 

_"Yes!"_ She punches the air, triumphantly, storming outside with her pumpkin before I can change my mind. 

And I'm left alone with Baz. 

He's smirking. "Aren't you going with her, Snow?" 

"Nah, I'm good," I shrug, realising I'm not really mad at him—normally, we would be fighting by now, shouting and pushing each other against the nearest wall. But not now. The feeling clawing at my guts isn't anger; it's _awkwardness._ "You just said I'm mediocre, so what's the point?" 

I say it grinning. I know he didn't mean it—Baz says a lot of stuff he doesn't mean, to avoid showing his real feelings. Still, I'm surprised when he averts his gaze and mumbles something that sounds like an apology. 

The silence hangs between us for a moment, heavy and uncomfortable. I chance a look at him, unconsciously biting my lower lip. He's still looking away—out the window, at the far line of trees. 

Finally, Baz breaks the silence, sliding from behind the counter and heading outside. "Come on, Snow. I want to show you something." 

"I—um…" I look at him hesitantly, then down at the pair of pumpkins in my arms. "Where do I…?" 

"Just leave them on the counter." 

I do. 

Then, for some reason, I follow him outside. 

*******

Baz leads me down the pumpkin patch, and I follow him in silence, thinking. 

It's been a long time since we've been together like this—peacefully. No shouting. No fists. No kisses. 

Just Baz and I, sharing the weight of a complicated past and even more complicated feelings between us. 

Finally, we reach a barn on the limits of the field, where the pumpkins meet the line of trees. There's no clear path here, just a sea of pumpkins. 

I look around. "So, um… what did you want to show me?" 

"Well, this is it," Baz says, opening his arms and gesturing around. "Most people come here to take photos. But it's pretty secluded, so couples also come here to make out, sometimes." He wiggles his eyebrows at me. "It's also a good place to hide corpses." 

I laugh nervously. "That's why you brought me here?" 

"Don't worry, Snow. I'm not going to murder you." 

"I was more concerned about the other possibility," I say, chewing on my cheek. He frowns, then snorts. 

"Relax. I just want to talk." 

I nod, following him. There's a wooden bench near the barn wall. Baz sits down, and I sit beside him. 

"This is weird," I say, after another silent minute. "It's been a while." 

"I know." Baz laughs, quietly. "Of course it's weird. Nothing about us has ever been conventional, anyway."

I give him a sideways glance—his hair is up in a loose bun, a dark strand falling on his grey eyes. I want to tuck it behind his ear—no, I want to undo his already messy bun, tangle my fingers in his hair and pull him to me. 

I take a deep breath, trying to remember why we're here now. Why this didn't work before. 

But the truth is that I really don't know. We've never been great at talking, which is probably why we spent so long fighting when in reality we were both… 

What? 

Anyway. We liked each other. But we had no idea how to make it work. 

Things were really good for a while. Like a summer romance, except it lasted longer. A fervent thing that burned all too fast. 

Or maybe not at _all._

Either way, it's over. It's been long enough for the last embers to cool. I wanted to reach out to him; I tried to, but he moved to Oxford at the beginning of the school year, and when I tried to text him, he'd changed his number. 

Though, even if I'd managed to contact Baz, I don't see how it could have changed anything. I guess I just wanted to… talk. 

(Apologise, maybe.) (Yeah, I didn't want things to end the way they did. I wanted to fix something, at least.) (Or… I didn't want things to end. Period.) 

We broke up by the end of our last year at Watford—and I haven't seen or spoken to him since. Things ended in a bitter tone, insults thrown right and left. 

And none of us ever apologised for that. 

I sigh. The silence stretches. 

"So," Baz finally breaks it, "how are you doing?" 

"I'm fine, I guess," I say. "Still studying journalism. What about you?" 

Baz takes a deep breath. "I think I'm going to transfer to London." 

I sit up straight. "You're leaving _Oxford_ to study at LSE?" I ask, in a tone that suggests I'm thinking _are you out of your mind?_

Baz shrugs. "I don't know if I still want to study economics. I've been talking to my father, you know." Baz bites his lip, apprehensive. "Nevermind. I don't know why I'm telling you this." 

"I… I mean, it's cool. You should study whatever you want." 

He just shrugs again, not looking at me. (Fuck, this is awkward.) 

"Anyway," Baz says, "I'm taking a break from uni, while I decide what to do with my life." He laughs again, looking around. "Yes, this is how I ended up working on my father's farm. I know you wanted to ask." 

"...I was really wondering," I say, and I see the corner of his mouth twitch. Just a bit. "At least it's fun, isn't it? Working at a pumpkin patch, I mean." 

"It's not the worst thing in the world," he says, and this time his smile seems almost... genuine. "It's really calming, actually." 

"Yeah." I take a deep breath. "So, uh… do you… I mean, have you—" I feel my face heating up as the words refuse to come out. "What I'm saying is—are you seeing someone?" 

Baz stares at me, frowning, and then he cracks a smile. "I'm mostly single, if that's what you want to hear." 

I flush. "What does that even _mean?"_

"Whatever you want it to mean." 

I snort. "Sorry, I should probably stop asking these questions." 

I turn to him, and he turns to me, and we just stare at each other for a moment. 

(I'd forgotten how unnerving Baz's eyes are. Looking into them feels like being engulfed by a storm, caught in a whirlwind.) (It's also awfully familiar.)

I don't even realise I'm leaning forward until I feel his breath on my face. 

"Baz," I say, but I don't really have anything else to say. I guess I just wanted to say his name.

"Simon," he says back.

I look down, realising just how close our hands are, sitting between us on the bench. 

I feel the words stuck on the back of my throat, waiting to come out. I think Baz feels it too. But the moment isn't right. 

"I missed you," he says, suddenly, and I'm taken aback by the softness of his voice. 

"I..." _(I should go now)._ "I missed you too." I bite my lip. "We're both messes, aren't we?"

"Even messier together," he completes, smiling. 

I missed this smile so much.

We're close enough now that I can knock my forehead against his. Our noses almost bump. I can— 

No. 

I shouldn't. (I'm looking down at his lips.)

We shouldn't. (He's looking at mine.) 

We lock eyes again. 

"Do you want to kiss me?" I blurt. 

Baz jerks back in surprise. "You know, people usually don't say these things straight up, Snow." 

"Anyway. Do you?" 

"Do you want me to kiss you?"

"I don't know. I just—I want to know if you do. Just in case." 

"In case of _what?"_

"Just answer the question, Baz," I huff. 

"Well, I don't." He finally says. 

"Why not?" 

"Because I don't know when—or if—I'll see you again after today. And I'd rather keep my heart intact, inside my chest. Where it belongs." He says, matter-of-factly. 

I think about it, my jaw tensing. "... Right. Yeah, you're right. That's a terrible idea." 

" _Simon_." 

"Baz." 

He's looking at me with such intensity, it feels like I'm going to burn. 

After all, what are the odds we could ever be together?

Our noses brush. His breath smells like earl grey tea and something familiar. 

"I think," I whisper, because everything else is quiet and I don't want to disturb the silence, "...I still feel things, Baz. For you." 

He laughs, and I have to close my eyes. "You know this can't end well, Snow." 

"Then let's skip the ending."

We're even closer now. Our foreheads touch. I feel his hand over mine, our fingers intertwining. 

This time, when I kiss him, it's a brush of lips. Soft. It makes me ache inside, my chest hollowed out. 

I let myself touch his cheek lightly. Baz's hand comes to rest on the nape of my neck. 

It feels like coming home. 

(It feels like saying goodbye.) 

*******

By the time we get back, Penny has already finished carving her pumpkin, and is now teaching a bunch of kids her fine sculpting techniques. 

"What were you doing?" She asks, eyeing me suspiciously. 

"Nothing," I mumble, fidgeting. I'm trying to think of something else to do, to stay just a bit longer. 

That's when I spot them: a pile of small plastic pumpkins on the counter. 

"Hey, what's this?" I ask, pointing at them. 

"They're souvenirs," Baz says. "Just a dumb idea my father had. Each one has a bunch of candy and a little message inside." 

I frown, taking one. It's pretty light and fits my palm. "So they're like fortune cookies?" 

He grins. "Kind of, yes." 

"I want one." 

Baz takes one from the pile, handing it to Penny. Then, he crouches down behind the counter, looking for something. 

When he gets up, he's holding another pumpkin, exactly like the others. "This one's on me." 

Our fingers brush when I grab it. "Thanks, Baz." 

Penny and I wait until we're inside the car to open them. 

"Hey," she starts, giving me a sideways glance, "how are you feeling?" 

I let out a shaky breath. "Disappointed, I think." 

"Why?" 

"Because nothing happened," I say, frustrated. "I don't know. It feels like I've got a second chance to make things right, and I'm just letting it... Go." 

Penny sighs. "Simon, you two just needed to talk." 

"I know. That's the problem," I open my mini pumpkin, peeking at the candy inside. 

She shrugs, opening hers as well. "Look, I don't think that was your last chance. You'll probably still see Baz around. You can still sort things out." 

I shake my head, weakly. "I really doubt it, Penny. I—" 

I cut myself off, staring at the small piece of paper that should tell my fortune. Just a little handwritten note. 

Except mine is a phone number. Huh.

I show it to Penny, too astounded to say anything. She lifts both eyebrows and smiles, like someone who says _I told you so._

I can feel a tentative smile crawling over my face.

Maybe the odds are better than I thought, after all. 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! 💞💞💞  
> If you want to know more about my writing process, check my Tumblr: [nightimedreamersworld](https://nightimedreamersworld.tumblr.com/)


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